8 reviews liked by DestroyerOfMid


Bop Louie, a humble hero. Where his Japanese counterpart takes the glory of the "Hebe"reke series, Bop relinquishes the title to the sheer joy that comes from the trusted group of four. Even within the saga itself, an experience in a genre which demands traversal, while Bop Louie may command the speediest playstyle, most relevant abilities are signature to the others. Bop Louie will never morph into the whirling machine of powers and chaos that so many other protagonists in this space delve into. He looks temptation in the eye and responds "No, I say to you. My friends are my strength, and without them I am no better than the very monsters I seek to overcome".

Shades, despite drawing on motifs associated with confident characters of the time period, lacks this sheer willpower. A fragile ego, Bop Louie sugarcoats his abilities as "you can jump very high" despite Shades' athletics being focused on travelling farther, a necessary concession to give to a friend incapable of acting without appearing the most talented in the room. Even with such insecurities, a second side to Shades shines through when using his secret attack, a cartoonish slapstick move in which he draws strength by exposing his true face to the world. This struggle to be taken seriously, even when most wouldn't mind either way, is eternally relatable, and perhaps alludes to some of Sunsoft's own catalog. For what illuminates this conflict better than Trip World's grandiose opening of two puffballs fighting over a flower, only to follow this up with a middling Kirby effigy? And yet, Shades persists in both the Japanese and European versions of the saga, a global superstar loved by all except himself.

Gil, another constant to each retelling of this experience, has remained not out of love but out of indifference. An aquatic denizen with an unflattering image, they fit in both Hebereke's esoteric cutesiness and Ufouria's cartoony coolness, but are at home in neither. Tossed around unceremoniously through rip currents, their boons of fast travel to the team will never be recognized. But Gil never loses sight of themself, even in their most lonely hour. For when there is a task to be done, shouldering the burden for the rest of the team is enough.

Freeon Leon. A name powerful enough to persist well beyond the scope of the world of Ufouria. A trailblazer who challenges frigid wastes and stormy seas without a hint of fear. Much has been said of her declaration to the world, "im freeon leon". But can you even comprehend what it means to stake ones claim in such a mighty existence? To feel every ton of weight that Freeon Leon handles during her legendary journey? Well, there is only one way to possibly perceive the breadth that legacy.

And that is to submerge yourself in true ufouria.

Well, look before you meme, I guess. I don’t know what I was really expecting with this one, but this game definitely managed to fall short of most of my hopes. The general structure and battle system of Live A Live were recreated pretty well, but a lot of the adaptation work misses most of the best parts of the original.

For instance, what if the China scenario had only one disciple you train for slightly different stat boosts, dulling the decision making and removing the strongest story beats of the original? What if Wild West had the enemies come in easy waves, and the boss on her lonesome, meaning there’s no point to picking up items, which was the entire challenge? Even the chapters I enjoyed like Ninja tend to coast off the successes of the original instead of improving anything. So many things don’t come together that one of my friends, watching my downward spiral playing this game, called the developer a type of fan who only saw Live A Live as a cool obscure game to copy off of.

And I find “fan” to be apt as Touhou A Live also trends towards really vapid shoutouts of both the original and other games. At the very least, the undeniably true Touhou lore that Yun LiveALive trained Meiling is funny, and most of the Live A Live cameos don’t take up much space. Meanwhile, the generic video game references were what really got to me. Like, Wild West has you play as a fox person, so Mad Dog is named after James McCloud and names you Fox! (In fairness, this one could be part of the translation, but there’s so many other references that it seems likely the joke could be in the original) The evil cavemen are crows, which obviously means Zaki has to be a Murkrow for some reason and his boss fights are you baiting out Brave Bird recoil damage. I guess this isn’t the biggest deal in the world, but it just gives off the vibe that whoever made this is like… really annoying about why Cube should be in Smash, if that makes any sense. These sorts of basic callouts really sap the immersion out of any story when they happen.

Speaking of the story, it’s a complete mess. The most immediate example is the end of the Knight chapter, something that in the original evidently inspires lots of thoughtful essays, including on this platform, from people probably better at writing than me. Here it’s just… Marisa mad that she’s the “Luigi” of Touhou. On some level, I get it. Touhou characters are more just funny than anything, and if Touhou A Live wanted to entirely divorce itself from Live A Live’s discussion of narratives, that would be acceptable. The Wrestler chapter is a strong example of this, with Masaru’s quest to become “the strongest” naturally imposed onto Cirno, who in typical Cirno fashion gets her shit kicked in by really strong bosses until you finally figure out their patterns. The chapter even has other good gags like the cast being 5 Touhou girls, as well as the entirely unchanged Moribe. Something silly like this is a perfect adaptation of Live A Live into the Touhou universe.

However, the narratively focused chapters still try to be “serious”, generally replacing the original plot with some incredibly insipid “who is truly correct in war” babble from a boss before a big fight. I simply don’t find a Touhou version of Live A Live a worthwhile way to examine themes like this (even putting aside hacky “we’re not so different” lines). At the point at which like, Gensokyo is planning a goddamn false flag operation to kill a whole village of their civilians in order to enrage the population to enlist in a war against Makai, the game has just forgotten what makes either of these properties appealing. And then the chapter inexplicably just becomes Knight again after this nuclear MAD false flag nonsense wraps up. The only time I think any of this works is in Mecha where you get to see the people in the process of liquefaction, which shows where Live A Live just kinda told us to care. Also, Wild West gets filled with pervy jokes towards the main character, and there’s a disgusting assault scene in the Knight chapter. The conversation around these sorts of games are usually shitposts about their general nature from people who haven’t played them, so I think it’s responsible having finished it to inform people who would play this for themselves about any disturbing content.

I know someone’s going to get on my case with “what about the gameplay though”, and general issues with chapters aside, I think the battle system is still fun here. Porting this whole real time grid thing to RPGMaker sounds like a headache, but it generally works. Sadly, in later chapters with more complex moves, “generally” often isn’t enough, and there are softlocks if you play fights the wrong way (like using a recoil move to KO a commander enemy, causing a BREAK DOWN). Of special note is the final boss, who softlocks if you KO one of the sentries while hitting another. That was very fun when my best damage dealer hit a whole row. On the other hand, the second phase glitched so bad that everyone but Cirno got stuck charging but the boss didn’t attack so I kicked her to death for like 9 minutes. We fucking take those.

Despite some mechanical issues, there are also some genuinely impressive fights. Towards the start of the Knight chapter, you need to rescue a woman from some bandits, so your main crew starts the fight in a far off corner while all the bandits surround their victim. You have to try to evacuate her ASAP since her vanishing from the field on death will cause a Game Over. This serves as a unique challenge and storytelling opportunity that Live A Live never tried. Even simpler ideas, such as a miniboss in Mecha who kills you in cardinal directions, forces you to strategize on the fly, dancing around the deadly attack while still keeping up pressure because the boss will heal too. Of course, in typical Touhou A Live fashion, this is balanced out by fangamecore bosses of “wow the mother computer goes into a third phase that instantly kills you if you dont spend 5 minutes using high update first so cool”. Taken as a whole, there are good ideas floating around in the game’s various fights despite it all.

Unfortunately, most of the best ideas here really are drowned out by the bad. I couldn’t even fit in other grievances like how the final chapter is even more bloated and dull than the original. There’s a lot of passion that goes into redoing a game like Live A Live, adding new sprites (including bombastic boss ones), even giving the whole soundtrack an infectious SiIvaGunner energy. But the mere presence of passion isn’t enough to make a good game, not when that passion goes toward a nonsensical tone and overlooks simple gameplay decisions, bulldozing over the best parts of Live A Live while seldomly providing much in return. If I wanted to be a news anchor I could say there’s still some interesting stuff here to check out, maybe the insanity of it all is compelling enough for some people, but really, this year I gained a massive appreciation of Live A Live and severe Touhou brainrot. If I could barely tolerate this game long enough to finish it for the bit, what is anyone else getting out of this?

except the best version of mecha omg stan mokou shes so fuckin epic

This review contains spoilers

Let me preface this text dump with its intent. This is not a review. Mother 3 has not been a game you discover on a mere fancy for quite some time now. Recommending this game by highlighting its appeal and features is a meaningless endeavor. It is not a product to be consumed, you cannot even purchase it. It is instead a work you seek out at the culmination of a personal journey. It being an iterative sequel, its slight inaccessibility, and its resonating message that people wish to share. These traits means that by the time you get around to seriously consider playing it, doing so has already become an inevitability.

So instead, this is merely an attempt to journal what this game means to me and my personal interpretation of it. Publicly disseminated so that I may compare my thoughts against those before me whom this game has also touched. The game has a lot to say and with the minimalist nature of trying to condense it all onto a 32-megabyte GBA cartridge there is a lot of room for its players to extrapolate its messaging from its details. I am incapable of encapsulating it all and certain topics I refrain from repeating, that which others I know have articulated far more succinctly than I. I choose instead to limit my focus on my observation on what Mother 3 says about legacy, and unavoidably, of love.

“And so the tale first begins… …as a tragedy”

We start off with the first chapter, establishing the tone of the rest of the story that is yet to come. Immediately any preconception that this tale was going to follow in the whimsical adventure template of its predecessors is stabbed through the heart. Flint, a reliable man of action loses the love of his life to an encroaching corruption. His son emulating him, goes out to seek retaliation. It does not end well. Although Flint does refrain from perpetuating the cycles of harm, this event destroys him. Unable to move on from his grief, Flint becomes stuck reminiscing in the past. Impotent to act against the coming storm.

“However, not everyone is content to sit quietly by as the enemy continues its odious attacks from every angle”

Recollection of the past can be more than just escapism from facing the present, understanding the past is paradoxically necessary to escape from itself. Duster, is strongly connected to the idea of identity to one’s legacy. Although not made apparent until the end, the idyllic communal town of Tazmily exist as the result of deliberate obfuscation of the past. However, without having the learned lessons of historic mistakes the town is vulnerable to repeating them. Wess, Duster’s father, is burdened to act as a failsafe during the inevitable time of crisis. A crisis that may not occur in his lifetime. How can one fulfil such a purpose that exists beyond their span? Through proxy. Duster is made to inherit this burden, the gravitas of which supersedes any personal desire for agency. Although the intention is noble, the game does not downplay the result of such a relationship where a parent tries to live extendedly through their child. Abuse. No matter the beatings or verbal assault or even mutual desire of both parties, Duster can never become Wess. This idea culminates in Duster’s inability to intrinsically understand his purpose, failing a test of discernment. The implication of this failure not lost upon an exasperated Wess.

“The pain and the sadness are unforgivably regrettable. Now I would like to repay all of this to you”

The abuse Wess enacts upon of Duster is born of frustration. While not to be undermined it is important to note that distinction when examining what follows. Fassad’s abuse of Salsa, and their zealous desire to destroy Tazmily, is incomparable. It is pure unadulterated malice. Calculated cruelty engineered to harm as much as possible. Fassad’s explicit motives are never elaborated upon. They are ultimately irrelevant. To provide a motive is to provide vindication that these actions are plausibly justified. Mother 3 makes no such concessions. Instead, the game gives nuance to his character through his background. That being, he was counted among the number of Magypsies, the nigh eternal beings responsible for overseeing the end of the world. Once again, the motive of his disaffiliation is left to the player to infer. The why is less important than the who. Fassad, is an individual acutely aware of history, and will ensure it is repeated. To oversee that humans cannibalise themselves to extinction once more through hubris and greed. Perhaps they seek to begrudge humanity from redemption? That when given a clean slate we can be so gently nudged towards our own annihilation. Perhaps this affirms a cynical worldview, that which appears reformed is merely a façade worth of contempt. It matters not, he is ambiguous by design for one to speculate. To showcase that vitriol can stem from anywhere.

"However, in that darkness, a once weak boy tried to become stronger. Lucas, is trying to paint this tragic story with a bright future.“

Likewise, so can kindness. The obsession with preserving and propagating the past, ones lived experiences, is a curse imposed with age. It is not by chance that instigating change is much more readily embraced by the youth. The fresh perspective that comes from those living solely in the present is necessary to conceive a future that has never been. These were my initial preconceptions going in for my expectations of a character such as Lucas that would be a gross mischaracterisation of what they are now. Former crybaby Lucas, as he is oft described, is just as shackled to the past as those previously mentioned. While Flint chases the fleeting spectre of those lost, Lucas however opts to fill their void. Claus, his twin, his mirror, now just a memory is not gone. No, Claus can yet live still through Lucas. Equivalent since birth, Lucas steps up to emulate the headstrong person he perceived his brother to be. Already embodying a kind and empathetic personality reminiscent of his mother, Lucas will propel the legacy of those he loves through his own life. This is not a burden nor obligation, this is how a child is able to contextualise a traumatic event to allow themselves to persevere, live and move on in absentia of mother, brother, and father. Not that Flint needs to worry that he is unable to see past the past to guide his son, he has ‘already grown to be a strong young man’.

“We crafted our story in haste, so the people inside it have very little “past” or “history”.”

In contrast and in parallel to Lucas and Wess, Kumatora, the driving force against the corruption that desecrates Tazmily is notable in her complete absence of familial legacy to propagate. That initial descriptor I had of Lucas, that as the catalyst of change, is more aptly applied to Kumatora. Just as kind and capable if not more so, the rugged princess of Osohe is beholden instead to a responsibility masqueraded as a fictitious past. However, unlike Duster, whom is oblivious of his true purpose, Kumatora is much more aware of the farce that is her role. Yet she continues to serve it through her own conviction. This isn’t as saccharine as it seems, otherwise completely isolated from the lives of the villagers, she fears without her ‘story’ she has no purpose nor connection to be made with people. A psychedelically induced dream entity declares: “Princess Kumatora is no princess. She's a broken woman not loved by anyone”. These fears are not unfounded, her interaction with the general populous of Tazmily incites commentary that is othering. Regardless she presses on, the significance and belief in her task too heavy to let such concerns cause her to falter.

“A great undefiable power has prepared a festival for the end of all life…”

Together Duster, Lucas and Kumatora (and a very narratively significant dog that I would do an injustice to describe) seek to preserve the idyllic commune of Tazmily from succumbing to the corrupting tendrils of a malignant thought. One perceived to have been carefully eradicated in order to preserve what little salvageable life is left in the world. Their efforts prove to be in vain. To forget is to repeat missteps. You cannot move on from that which you do not know. Their quest doomed before it even began. The end of life, of everything becomes inevitable. Yet there is meaning to be found in the struggle. Duster whose agency had always been privy to others comes to self-realisation and through his own agency commits himself fully to the cause. An end may also conceive a new beginning.

“I'll let you in on a little secret. No matter how much you attack me, I'm not going to die. Even if you manage to knock me down, I will not die. Didn't you know that?”

Porky Minch and what they represent is absolute harrowing, they are the dregs of the experience that is life, they are very much human, and they are eternal. The final chapter of the game is almost entirely dedicated to examining Porky as a character and idea and consequently the very worst aspects of the human condition. Fassad, who represents a concentrated and precise contempt is a nihilistic ideal that can be tangibly confronted, defeated, and suppressed. Porky comparatively is instead almost ethereal. A theology that cannot be meaningfully engaged and therefore cannot be defeated. Yet the impact of this idea they represent are very tangible, having omnipresent sway over the hearts and minds of people. There is an allure to the commodified lens of the world that Porky embodies. A lens that will see you perceive the world in terms of value and outputs. Of dollars and gains. Of winners and more tellingly losers. The destruction of the world that Porky conducts, the same that had occurred once before, is not done out of hatred nor malice. It has a much more sinister motive. Apathy. The ideal that is Porky, this harbinger of humanity’s unmaking is simply committed out of boredom. An act of exhaustion ensuing from a long life that is unfulfilling. When examining the world in such a way, this capitalistic framework ironically makes everything ultimately worthless. This is because fundamentally, the reason Porky is the way they are is because they do not, they cannot, comprehend love, to perceive something you hold dear to have personal value. In love’s void a perverse imitation is born. This corrupt idea of value is what Porky covets, enshrines but is never sated by. And it is so very very contagious.

“Lucas, be happy. We found Claus”

You cannot truly defeat Porky because they are broader than the individual entity they are represented by, they are an eternal occurrence, a perpetual idea. The contemporary to love itself. But what of one who knew love once and lost it? At the very end of the game, you have one final confrontation. Before the final needle which will preside the collective worth of humanity. Lucas stands before his mirror, a young boy who lost themselves to grief. Whos love hurt them so much that it had to be buried. To be forgotten. To leave them with nothing. To see Claus like that, Lucas, whom sought to embody who Claus used to be, what he was going to become, falters completely. It unmakes Lucas, his love for the idea that was his brother was the source of his strength. Lucas doesn’t know what to do. He falters. A voice rings out. A voice that stirs the soul and resonates the heart. You cannot bury those memory deep enough. Love is insidious, its permanent scars mark the very fabric of who you are. And it hurts. It hurts so much. It is unbearable. The memory of love resurfaces indomitable. And it forces Claus to remember. To emerge from the prison of his heart and become himself once more. And then in cruel mercy, allows him the agency to destroy himself.

"You must be so exhausted. Come here Claus”

Its over. Love triumphs. It is beautiful in all its tragedy. There is just one task left. To pull the needle and be judged. What worth is this love that was fought so hard to preserve? Calamity manifests on screen. The End?

“But as you can see, everyone is just fine! We’ve regained something incredibly immense”.

On a black screen the words above appear among many others. After witnessing the spectacle that is the end of the world, the game addresses any player that is still left wanting after the end screen. By fumbling around eventually you are rewarded with text. One by one characters chime in reassuring you that they are all ok and that everything worked out in the end. You can see it right? This is something that you the player can visualise right? This beautiful ending where it all worked out alright? The game is asking you if you can believe it. Do you?

I could not see it. I am currently incapable of doing so. This is a personal failing of mine. I have let bitter cynicism wear down my ability to conceptualise such a world. If I cannot even imagine it, how can I even seek to have it realised? But even so, I believe in it. Everything worked out ok for Lucas, Kumatora, Duster and everyone else. I might not have been able to witness it but it happened. Mother 3 says it can and it did. And I believe it. For what else is there to believe in?

“It looks like things will work out here, but what about your world? Will it be alright?”

i've never shed a tear in my life because i'm a badass mercenary with a heart of gold but even i started sobbing like a baby when Mitchell uttered "you fucked up my face"

“The better your… Dandori… the more important… you are…”

The original Pikmin game is a novel experience like no other. If you were to ask one of its fans to describe the gameplay to you, you will be met with a different answer each time. It was the inception of a new genre of game that despite its critical acclaim has inspired few contemporaries, certainly due to the rather modest return on investment the series has made over its lifetime. You see in this world (which is one and the same as in Pikmin) there is an objective evaluation upon which your work’s value can be judged and deemed beautiful. The more efficient you are in obtaining these metrics the better the work is. This concept and its romanticization as I have come to understand it is referred to as ‘Dandori’. Pikmin despite its promise as a unique, fun, and compelling gameplay experience had failed to draw in sufficient mainstream appeal. Experimentation on the game’s format in its iterative sequels also performed mildly. As efficient use of time can be equated to money, the ever-increasing pursuit of greater attainment of Dandori becomes self-evident and demands for these inefficiencies to be expunged.

“Your Dandori…needs work.”

Pikmin 4, for good or ill seeks to do exactly this. The concept of Dandori is the focal point of the game, both in its design philosophies as well as its narrative. Pikmin 1 and 2, tells a tale of success and perseverance. How the brave space captain Olimar, whose work-ethic was peerless, was able to overcome trials and tribulations to save both himself and the company he worked for. Pikmin 4 completely dispels this preconception. It is both a meta retrospection and a reboot. Instead, in both our reality and in Pikmin’s, a different turn of events transpired. Olimar, and metaphorically the Pikmin series itself, did not escape past the stratosphere of PNF-404. He was close to success, but failed, doomed to become just another part of the abandoned wilderness, but perhaps with just a bit more acumen and acclimation towards Dandori principles he could be saved.

“Those who do not embrace Dandori cannot survive this planet… But if they grow the leaves… they will thrive”

Pikmin 4 wants to succeed. It is engineered to succeed. To do this it wants ‘you’ to succeed. Like the player carefully manages their Pikmin, the game seeks to manage the player. It does this through several ways. It limits your options, guiding you towards efficiency (having more than three Pikmin at a time is almost never optimal) and it provides you the means to easily accomplish your tasks. Most prominently of which is Oatchi, an entity that will both point you to your objectives as well as accomplish them for you. There is almost no obstacle that Oatchi cannot handle alone, but then what becomes the purpose of the Pikmin then? Therein lies the beauty that is this game. You see Dandori and its pursuit is never forced upon you. It is tantalized, endorsed, and romanticized but your adherence to its principles is voluntary. You can beat this game and all its challenges as efficiently or inefficiently as you wish. Dandori challenges, of which there is specific threshold requirement to complete, can be entirely skipped and ignored. You use the Pikmin because you want to be efficient. You want to be efficient to save time. You want to save time because it is made to feel satisfying to do so. What do you do with the saved time? Further pursue mastery of Dandori. It is a malady and madness. Which the game itself acknowledges.

“Go home!”

Not everyone has fallen for this spell. Dandori is ‘almost’ presented as NOT being inherently beautiful and meaningful. Pikmin or Captain lives and wellbeing are not factored into its evaluation. Olimar and his obsession at being an exemplary worker is not unquestionably a good thing. It is shown to take a strain upon his life and the time he would spend with his family. It is unfathomable to directly challenge the idealization of Dandori as it is not just foundational for Pikmin 4 but the culture that produced it in the first place. Yet intentional or not, Pikmin 4’s endgame is its own critic.

I recommend this game to anyone who is already a Pikmin fan, particularly for those who enjoyed Pikmin 2. While the wilderness has already been tamed four entries in, I am sure there is plenty for you to enjoy, even if the game is back heavy with the challenges. If you are foreign to the series whether you will enjoy this game depends on how much you are willing to engage with Dandori. If you are sick of hearing the term’s prominence in this review, you will not survive the game itself.

(If a game inspired me to write something about it, it gets 5 stars regardless of all other factors. Like Dandori this metric is only as real as you let it become)

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